IX. HOW NIGEL HELD THE BRIDGE AT TILFORD
The King looked at the motionless figure, at the little crowd of
hushed expectant rustics beyond the bridge, and finally at the
face of Chandos, which shone with amusement.
"What is this, John?" he asked.
"You remember Sir Eustace Loring, sire?"
"Indeed I could never forget him nor the manner of his death."
"He was a knight errant in his day."
"That indeed he was - none better have I known."
"So is his son Nigel, as fierce a young war-hawk as ever yearned
to use beak and claws; but held fast in the mews up to now. This
is his trial fight. There he stands at the bridge-head, as was
the wont in our fathers' time, ready to measure himself against
all comers."
Of all Englishmen there was no greater knight errant than the King
himself, and none so steeped in every quaint usage of chivalry; so
that the situation was after his own heart.
"He is not yet a knight?"
"No, sire, only a Squire."
"Then he must bear himself bravely this day if he is to make good
what he has done. Is it fitting that a young untried Squire
should venture to couch his lance against the best in England?"
"He bath given me his cartel and challenge," said Chandos, drawing
a paper from his tunic. "Have I your permission, sire, to issue
it?"
"Surely, John, we have no cavalier more versed in the laws of
chivalry than yourself. You know this young man, and you are
aware how far he is worthy of the high honor which he asks. Let
us hear his defiance,"
The knights and squires of the escort, most of whom were veterans
of the French war, had been gazing with interest and some surprise
at the steel-clad figure in front of them. Now at a call from Sir
Walter Manny they assembled round the spot where the King and
Chandos had halted. Chandos cleared his throat and read from his
paper
"`A tous seigneurs, chevaliers et escuyers,' so it is headed,
gentlemen. It is a message from the good Squire Nigel Loring of
Tilford, son of Sir Eustace Loring, of honorable memory. Squire
Loring awaits you in arms, gentlemen, yonder upon the crown of the
old bridge. Thus says he: `For the great desire that I, a most
humble and unworthy Squire, entertain, that I may come to the
knowledge of the noble gentlemen who ride with my royal master, I
now wait on the Bridge of the Way in the hope that some of them
may condescend to do some small deed of arms upon me, or that I
may deliver them from any vow which they may have taken. This I
say out of no esteem for myself, but solely that I may witness the
noble bearing of these famous cavaliers and admire their skill in
the handling of arms. Therefore, with the help of Saint George, I
will hold the bridge with sharpened lances against any or all who
may deign to present themselves while daylight lasts."
"What say you to this, gentlemen?" asked the King, looking round
with laughing eyes.
"Truly it is issued in very good form," said the Prince. "Neither
Claricieux nor Red Dragon nor any herald that ever wore tabard
could better it. Did he draw it of his own hand?"
"He hath a grim old grandmother who is one of the ancient breed,"
said Chandos. "I doubt not that the Dame Ermyntrude hath drawn a
challenge or two before now. But hark ye, sire, I would have a
word in your ear - and yours too, most noble Prince."
Leading them aside, Chandos whispered some explanations, which
ended by them all three bursting into a shout of laughter.
"By the rood! no honorable gentleman should be reduced to such
straits," said the King. "It behooves me to look to it. But how
now, gentlemen? This worthy cavalier still waits his answer."
The soldiers had all been buzzing together; but now Walter Manny
turned to the King with the result of their counsel.
"If it please your majesty," said he, "we are of opinion that this
Squire hath exceeded all bounds in desiring to break a spear with
a belted knight ere he has given his proofs. We do him sufficient
honor if a Squire ride against him, and with your consent I have
chosen my own body-squire, John Widdicombe, to clear the path for
us across the bridge."
"What you say, Walter, is right and fair," said the King. "Master
Chandos, you will tell our champion yonder what hath been
arranged. You will advise him also that it is our royal will that
this contest be not fought upon the bridge, since it is very clear
that it must end in one or both going over into the river, but
that he advance to the end of the bridge and fight upon the plain.
You will tell him also that a blunted lance is sufficient for such
an encounter, but that a hand-stroke or two with sword or mace may
well be exchanged, if both riders should keep their saddles. A
blast upon Raoul's horn shall be the signal to close."
Such ventures as these where an aspirant for fame would wait for
days at a cross-road, a ford, or a bridge, until some worthy
antagonist should ride that way, were very common in the old days
of adventurous knight erranty, and were still familiar to the
minds of all men because the stories of the romancers and the
songs of the trouveres were full of such incidents. Their actual
occurrence however had become rare. There was the more curiosity,
not unmixed with amusement, in the thoughts of the courtiers as
they watched Chandos ride down to the bridge and commented upon
the somewhat singular figure of the challenger. His build was
strange, and so also was his figure, for the limbs were short for
so tall a man. His head also was sunk forward as if he were lost
in thought or overcome with deep dejection.
"This is surely the Cavalier of the Heavy Heart," said Manny.
"What trouble has he, that he should hang his head?"
"Perchance he hath a weak neck," said the King.
"At least he hath no weak voice," the Prince remarked, as Nigel's
answer to Chandos came to their ears. "By our lady, he booms like
a bittern."
As Chandos rode back again to the King, Nigel exchanged the old
ash spear which had been his father's for one of the blunted
tournament lances which he took from the hands of a stout archer
in attendance. He then rode down to the end of the bridge where a
hundred-yard stretch of greensward lay in front of him. At the
same moment the Squire of Sir Walter Manny, who had been hastily
armed by his comrades, spurred forward and took up his position.
The King raised his hand; there was a clang from the falconer's
horn, and the two riders, with a thrust of their heels and a shake
of their bridles, dashed furiously at each other. In the center
the green strip of marshy meadowland, with the water squirting
from the galloping hoofs, and the two crouching men, gleaming
bright in the evening sun, on one side the half circle of
motionless horsemen, some in steel, some in velvet, silent and
attentive, dogs, hawks, and horses all turned to stone; on the
other the old peaked bridge, the blue lazy river, the group of
openmouthed rustics, and the dark old manor-house with one grim
face which peered from the upper window.
A good man was John Widdicombe, but he had met a better that day.
Before that yellow whirlwind of a horse and that rider who was
welded and riveted to his saddle his knees could not hold their
grip. Nigel and Pommers were one flying missile, with all their
weight and strength and energy centered on the steady end of the
lance. Had Widdicombe been struck by a thunderbolt he could not
have flown faster or farther from his saddle. Two full
somersaults did he make, his plates clanging like cymbals, ere he
lay prone upon his back.
For a moment the King looked grave at that prodigious fall. Then
smiling once more as Widdicombe staggered to his feet, he clapped
his hands loudly in applause. "A fair course and fairly run!" he
cried. "The five scarlet roses bear themselves in peace even as I
have seen them in war. How now, my good Walter? Have you another
Squire or will you clear a path for us yourself?"
Manny's choleric face had turned darker as he observed the
mischance of his representative. He beckoned now to a tall
knight, whose gaunt and savage face looked out from his open
bassinet as an eagle might from a cage of steel.
"Sir Hubert," said he, "I bear in mind the day when you overbore
the Frenchman at Caen. Will you not be our champion now?"
"When I fought the Frenchman, Walter, it was with naked weapons,"
said the knight sternly. "I am a soldier and I love a soldier's
work, but I care not for these tiltyard tricks which were invented
for nothing but to tickle the fancies of foolish women."
"Oh, most ungallant speech!" cried the King. "Had my good-consort
heard you she would have arraigned you to appear at a Court of
Love with a jury of virgins to answer for your sins. But I pray
you to take a tilting spear, good Sir Hubert!"
"I had as soon take a peacock's feather, my fair lord; but I will
do it, if you ask me. Here, page, hand me one of those sticks,
and let me see what I can do."
But Sir Hubert de Burgh was not destined to test either his skill
or his luck. The great bay horse which he rode was as unused to
this warlike play as was its master, and had none of its master's
stoutness of heart; so that when it saw the leveled lance, the
gleaming figure and the frenzied yellow horse rushing down upon
it, it swerved, turned and galloped furiously down the river-bank.
Amid roars of laughter from the rustics on the one side and from
the courtiers on the other, Sir Hubert was seen, tugging vainly at
his bridle, and bounding onward, clearing gorse-bushes and
heather-clumps, until he was but a shimmering, quivering gleam
upon the dark hillside. Nigel, who had pulled Pommers on to his
very haunches at the instant that his opponent turned, saluted
with his lance and trotted back to the bridge-head, where he
awaited his next assailant.
"The ladies would say that a judgment hath fallen upon our good
Sir Hubert for his impious words," said the King.
"Let us hope that his charger may be broken in ere they venture to
ride out between two armies," remarked the Prince. "They might
mistake the hardness of his horse's mouth for a softness of the
rider's heart. See where he rides, still clearing every bush upon
his path."
"By the rood!" said the King, "if the bold Hubert has not
increased his repute as a jouster he has gained great honor as a
horseman. But the bridge is still closed, Walter. How say you
now? Is this young Squire never to be unhorsed, or is your King
himself to lay lance in rest ere his way can be cleared? By the
head of Saint Thomas! I am in the very mood to run a course with
this gentle youth."
"Nay, nay, sire, too much honor hath already been done him!" said
Manny, looking angrily at the motionless horseman. "That this
untried boy should be able to say that in one evening he has
unhorsed my Squire, and seen the back of one of the bravest
knights in England is surely enough to turn his foolish head.
Fetch me a spear, Robert! I will see what I can make of him."
The famous knight took the spear when it was brought to him as a
master-workman takes a tool. He balanced it, shook it once or
twice in the air, ran his eyes down it for a flaw in the wood, and
then finally having made sure of its poise and weight laid it
carefully in rest under his arm. Then gathering up his bridle so
as to have his horse under perfect command, and covering himself
with the shield, which was slung round his neck, he rode out to do
battle.
Now, Nigel, young and inexperienced, all Nature's aid will not
help you against the mixed craft and strength of such a warrior.
The day will come when neither Manny nor even Chandos could sweep
you from your saddle; but now, even had you some less cumbrous
armor, your chance were small. Your downfall is near; but as you
see the famous black chevrons on a golden ground your gallant
heart which never knew fear is only filled with joy and amazement
at the honor done you. Your downfall is near, and yet in your
wildest dreams you would never guess how strange your downfall is
to be.
Again with a dull thunder of hoofs the horses gallop over the soft
water-meadow. Again with a clash of metal the two riders meet.
It is Nigel now, taken clean in the face of his helmet with the
blunted spear, who flies backward off his horse and falls clanging
on the grass.
But good heavens! what is this? Manny has thrown up his hands in
horror and the lance has dropped from his nerveless fingers. From
all sides, with cries of dismay, with oaths and shouts and
ejaculations to the saints, the horsemen ride wildly in. Was ever
so dreadful, so sudden, so complete, an end to a gentle passage at
arms? Surely their eyes must be at fault? Some wizard's trick
has been played upon them to deceive their senses. But no, it was
only too clear. There on the greensward lay the trunk of the
stricken cavalier, and there, a good dozen yards beyond, lay his
helmeted head.
"By the Virgin!" cried Manny wildly, as he jumped from his horse,
"I would give my last gold piece that the work of this evening
should be undone! How came it? What does it mean? Hither, my
Lord Bishop, for surely it smacks of witchcraft and the Devil."
With a white face the Bishop had sprung down beside the prostrate
body, pushing through the knot of horrified knights and squires.
"I fear that the last offices of the Holy Church come too late,"
said he in a quivering voice. "Most unfortunate young man! How
sudden an end! In medio vitae, as the Holy Book has it - one
moment in the pride of his youth, the next his head torn from his
body. Now God and his saints have mercy upon me and guard me from
evil!"
The last prayer was shot out of the Bishop with an energy and
earnestness unusual in his orisons. It was caused by the sudden
outcry of one of the Squires who, having lifted the helmet from
the ground, cast it down again with a scream of horror.
"It is empty!" he cried. "It weighs as light as a feather."
"'Fore God, it is true!" cried Manny, laying his hand on it.
"There is no one in it. With what have I fought, father Bishop?
Is it of this world or of the next?"
The Bishop had clambered on his horse the better to consider the
point. "If the foul fiend is abroad," said he, "my place is over
yonder by the King's side. Certes that sulphur-colored horse hath
a very devilish look. I could have sworn that I saw both smoke
and flame from its nostrils. The beast is fit to bear a suit of
armor which rides and fights and yet hath no man within it."
"Nay, not too fast, father Bishop," said one of the knights. "It
may be all that you say and yet come from a human workshop. When
I made a campaign in South Germany I have seen at Nuremberg a
cunning figure, devised by an armorer, which could both ride and
wield a sword. If this be such a one - "
"I thank you all for your very gentle courtesy," said a booming
voice from the figure upon the ground.
At the words even the valiant Manny sprang into his saddle. Some
rode madly away from the horrid trunk. A few of the boldest
lingered.
"Most of all," said the voice, "would I thank the most noble
knight, Sir Walter Manny, that he should deign to lay aside his
greatness and condescend to do a deed of arms upon so humble a
Squire."
"'Fore God!" said Manny, " if this be the Devil, then the Devil
hath a very courtly tongue. I will have him out of his armor, if
he blast me!"
So saying he sprang once more from his horse and plunging his hand
down the slit in the collapsed gorget he closed it tightly upon a
fistful of Nigel's yellow curls. The groan that came forth was
enough to convince him that it was indeed a man who lurked within.
At the same time his eyes fell upon the hole in the mail corselet
which had served the Squire as a vizor, and he burst into
deep-chested mirth. The King, the Prince and Chandos, who had
watched the scene from a distance, too much amused by it to
explain or interfere, rode up weary with laughter, now that all
was discovered.
"Let him out!" said the King, with his hand to his side. "I pray
you to unlace him and let him out! I have shared in many a
spear-running, but never have I been nearer falling from my horse
than as I watched this one. I feared the fall had struck him
senseless, since he lay so still."
Nigel had indeed lain with all the breath shaken from his body,
and as he was unaware that his helmet had been carried off, he had
not understood either the alarm or the amusement that he had
caused. Now freed from the great hauberk in which he had been
shut like a pea in a pod, he stood blinking in the light, blushing
deeply with shame that the shifts to which his poverty had reduced
him should be exposed to all these laughing courtiers. It was the
King who brought him comfort.
"You have shown that you can use your father's weapons," said he,
" and you have proved also that you are the worthy bearer of his
name and his arms, for you have within you that spirit for which
he was famous. But I wot that neither he nor you would suffer a
train of hungry men to starve before your door; so lead on, I pray
you, and if the meat be as good as this grace before it, then it
will be a feast indeed."
